Fang and Claw
by ScreamingViking
Summary: The title's sort of a play on the old phrase "tooth and nail", if you were wondering. Follows the story of a Khajiit Dragonborn, but it doesn't follow everything in-game to the letter because that's overdone and boring. Rated M for future chapters


Grelod the Kind was well known for being anything but kind; Ma'harra had hoped that she was only given that title as a bit of an inside joke for the people of Riften and the surrounding holds but doubt was beginning to grow in the back of her mind, especially after hearing the piteous tones people had used when she was escorted past them on the street on the way to the orphanage.

The big wooden building was foreboding enough without the whisperings of a terrible harpy of a woman living within making it worse. Just being near it gave her a bad feeling. Keen Khajiiti ears picked up noises and voices as they neared the structure, and they confirmed Ma'harra's apprehensiveness toward it all. She couldn't understand the words, but tones of voice were just as informative in this case; rage was the first one she noticed with fear being the second. While the voices within were hushed and slightly too quiet for her to hear very well, she did pick up one sentence.

"Don't you dare cry, you little whelp." The words were entirely devoid of meaning for her, but the hatred behind them conveyed the message well enough.

Ma'harra swallowed hard and flattened her tiny russet ears, peering up at the helmeted Nord man who'd been assigned with the job of seeing her as far as the orphanage with fear in her eyes.

"Please don't make Khajiit go. This one can take care of herself!" She wrapped her little hand around the man's wide forearm tightly and began to slow her pace a bit.

"You know I can't understand your language, cat. Go on and knock on the door. I'll wait to see you off at least." He pointed with his free hand to the door of the orphanage and gave her a small smile that was hidden from view by his thick, standard issue iron helmet. His accent didn't help her understand the strange language he was speaking in at all, but she assumed he wasn't going to let her go free judging by the way he nudged her along the wooden walkway toward their destination.

The noises from within the building had stopped, leaving nothing for Ma'harra to hear but a high pitched ringing sound that indicated complete silence. Giving one last glance to the guard, she tentatively raised her fist and rapped on the door once, twice, three times.

"Constance! Get the door. I'll be in my room." Demanded a gravelly but still female voice from within. Quiet footsteps padded closer and closer to the door, Ma'harra's heartbeat quickening with each step she heard. For a brief moment before the door opened the little Khajiit hoped that maybe Grelod wouldn't be as cruel as she was made out to be and that everything would be okay; maybe she'd even find a new family. Rumors had a way of snowballing, after all.

The heavy wooden door creaked open, and the hairless face of a female human peered down at the little girl; the warm smile on her mouth helped ease a bit of the anxiety coursing through her body. The woman introduced herself as Constance, and she very politely told the guard waiting nearby that everything was under control before taking Ma'harra's hand and guiding her inside. Just before the door shut she managed to peek back outside, to what felt like her last glimpse of freedom. She saw the guard shake his head and mumble something under his breath before turning to go back to his post.

The entire building had a heavy feeling to it that made the hair on Ma'harra's tail stand on end and her pupils tighten in fear. Even the children weren't acting like other children she'd met, they were all sitting silently on their beds reading big books or just staring at the walls with a dead look in their eyes. All the other human kids she'd encountered had been lively and playful, some more willing to play with her than others but definitely not at all like these ones. She wondered if they were sick, but deep down she knew it was something else. Something evil and violent that even made her own soul feel heavy and lifeless.

"Ow! What'd you scratch me for?" Constance yanked her hand away from Ma'harra's, four tiny pinholes just above her fingers with each a single droplet of blood on it.

Her burnt yellow eyes widened in shock and fear at the sudden exclamation, "Ma'harra is sorry! She did not mean to hurt you!"

She truly hadn't meant to let her claws protrude from their normal hiding place in her fingers, but it was bound to happen with her having been clutching so tightly onto Constance. The little cat stepped backward from the Imperial woman, hoping for some lenience in her inevitable punishment.

"I…I don't understand you, but it's okay. Don't be afraid. It was an accident I'm sure. Come this way, I'll show you to your bed."

Constance offered her hand back to the near-panicked Khajiit who took it reluctantly and paid extra attention to keep her claws put away as they made their way toward an empty single bed in the far corner of the room. None of the children looked up from their books or papers at the girl as she went past, though she studied them all quite thoroughly. In each of the four occupied beds sat a child, three girls and one boy. They all appeared to be slightly older than herself and all but one girl, who had dark brown skin and black hair, were likely Nords.

They arrived at her bed, and she climbed up to sit on it just as the other kids were doing. Constance crouched down and looked her in the eye, all hints of a smile gone now. The woman looked as if she wanted to say something, but no words ever came. Instead she smoothed Ma'harra's dark brown hair with her hand and kissed her furry forehead.

Tears pricked at Ma'harra's eyes at the gesture; her mother used to kiss her forehead every night before bed in mostly the same manner. She missed her greatly, but tried to put the thought out of her mind.

Constance sighed quietly and left the little Khajiit alone. She got the feeling she should just stay put and wait for further instructions, but it was terribly boring just sitting there. She found herself missing the caravan; it was unpleasant walking for days at a time but at least then she wasn't utterly alone. It was a strange feeling for the little girl, being in a crowd and also being completely on her own at the same time.

The light peeking through the gap in the curtains on a nearby window was beginning to fade, and the other children had begun snuggling under their covers and putting their books away and so she followed their lead. The unending silence was awkward, and Ma'harra was glad to be going to sleep finally.

While no one spoke a word to each other, her ears picked up more than a few muffled sniffles from all around the room- including her own.

AN: Reviews are always greatly appreciated, and needed in this case. I'm not entirely happy with this but it's good enough for now. Thanks for reading!


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